


The Devil Knows My Name

by RecklessSmiles



Series: The Devil Knows My Name [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Religious, Alternative universe-Old West, Billy is actually the Devil, But Billy has had his back from the very beginning, Cowboy AU, Cowboy Steve Harrington, Devil Billy Hargrove, Enemies to Lovers, Harringrove, M/M, Outlaw turned Preacher Steve, Preacher Steve Harrington, Protective Billy Hargrove, Steve goes through so much shit, Steve is a broken man that needs saving, old west au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:14:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22289242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RecklessSmiles/pseuds/RecklessSmiles
Summary: In the year of the Lord 1875,An outlaw, 'King of the Desert' to some or 'King Steve' to others was hired by a former 'Sheriff Hopper' to retrieve something. Something that was suppose to save people. Except it just cost the outlaw his little brother's life.No, scratch that, Steve just cost his brother his life because the outlaw cared more about the reward then their safety.Well at least the Devil is still on the bandit's side.The Devil that knows his name. Has been on his side rooting for Steve from the very beginning. Now the Devil is knocking on the outlaw turned priest's front door; looking to cash in on his favors.Would you make a deal with the Devil if you owed him your life?
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: The Devil Knows My Name [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1604401
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Song Rec: Kaleo 'way down we go'

**_Four Years ago:_ **

“Dammit Dustin! Forget it! We have to keep moving, they’re gainin’ on us!”

A tattered man’s voice raged down from his horse to a young boy, his brother. His brother with curly hair and a red rag tied around his face; scurrying around in the sand for something. Something very important, he dropped it in the rush of riding. As they tried to flee from the law men after them.

“Steve! This is what we came here for! We need it!”

The young boy huffed out. Palms digging in the hot sand, calloused and blistered from the riding and fighting. The older male could barely recognize his brother, looked like a different boy then the one that started this journey with him. Probably is in all honesty. Hell, Steve is a different man then he was before all this. And will be a different man from who he is now when it’s all over; there’s just some things you can’t come back from.

“No! We’ll find something else!”

“Nothing else will work!” Dustin yelled back up to his older brother.

Chestnut hair peeked out from the man’s Stetson hat. His face shadowed by the wide brim hidden away from the high sun, his mouth covered by a dark bandanna. He kept swearing under his breath, mumbling to himself as he whipped his head back and forth. Consistently looking behind to see the rally riding towards them and to his brother below him.

The man, Steve; dust covered, beaten and battered leaned down from his horse to scan the desert floor. See if he could find it with his view. The thing that brought them all the way out to the Californian desert. The thing that, if they can’t find it, will let life as they know it be destroyed. 

“Dustin! There!” He called for the younger boy, pointed to something, something that shined in the taupe sand. 

“Yes!” The younger boy dove down to grab it, “Got it! Steve I got it!” Dustin smiled up to his brother. Scuffled to his feet, two stepped back to the horses and packed the golden spear head into Steve’s saddle bag.

“Get back on your damn horse! We gotta go, now!”

Steve yelled as he looked behind, saw them, heard them, heard the guns and the men shouting from just over the sand dune. 

“Dustin! C’mon we gotta ride!”

Steve kicked his boots, took off as soon as Dustin regained his place in his saddle. Heels down and rains loose giving their horses complete freedom to run. Run as fast as their legs can go in the brutal sands of Death Valley. And it was a wild chase, sand from the winds kicking into their faces.

Dustin’s bandanna flew off, and not to Steve’s surprise, he was smiling. The kid was enjoying their midnight ride as if it was a pleasure stroll. Well, the brunette couldn’t blame him. It ran in the family, Steve was all for the thrill, adrenaline pumped lifestyle himself.

That’s what made him take Hopper’s offer in the first place. Sure, stopping imminent death was a bonus, but the thrill of the mission was the real reason. Dustin just begged to come on this one. Steve did promise the kid when he turned fifteen he could come on his mercenary-esque escapades.

Just, Steve didn’t know how dangerous this one job was going to turn out. Didn’t learn the reason why they needed to obtain this arrow head, this specifically holy relic. Obtain by stealing it of'course. He didn’t learn what this object was or what it was for until they got caught trying to steal it by a native warrior. But the Chief released them, told them to take it and go. Told Steve how to use it, where to stick the beast with it. Steve didn’t even know there was a beast! Yet another detail Hopper left out.

But these were all past details that didn’t matter any more now. Now that they had the weapon. This holy thing that is older than the sand they’re stampeding on. Now in Steve’s saddle bag. As the boys ride neck to neck. Clearly a good mile between them and the mob on horseback. The same rally men that have been chasing them since Nevada, trying to cut them down as to not foil their plans. Plans that Steve also has no real idea of but Hopper surely does.

“Steve! Look, it’s the ace! Steve! We’re gonna make it! We’re gonna-”...

But a miles worth of distance was nothing to a Peacemaker. And that damn corrupted Marshal, well, he had a fine shot…too fine. 

“DUSTIN! NO!”


	2. You & Me & The Devil makes three [but three’s a crowd so just the Devil will do]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the year of the Lord 1879, August 23. The summer heat of the Californian desert made blood boil and could evaporate the marrow from bone. The sun hasn’t even risen yet but it was the summer days like today where the Devil himself was said to run the earth; leavin' his hellfire behind him... 
> 
> And for one lonely preacher man, he did.  
> Who knew the Devil had such blue eyes, had blonde curls framing his face. Well, he was the most beautiful of angels after all. 
> 
> And now he's here, knocking on Steve's door. No, not knocking, he entered without permission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Song Rec:   
> 1\. Elle King- Ain't gonna drown   
> 2\. Kaleo- Broken Bones]

“No!”

The brunette shouts, brown eyes opening wide as he shoots up from his bed abruptly. Panting, chest heaving and drenched in sweat. The night Steve doesn’t have a night terror will be the night he finally kicks the bucket. Ain't no rest for the wicked and all that jazz, right?

“Dustin…”

Steve sighs out reaching to his nightstand, reaching for a bottle that was no longer there. Hasn’t been there for almost three years now. Whiskey, brandy, anything. His mouth burned for it, his soul craved the sweet release of this pain, the pain that gnawed at him. Chewed away at him at every damn second of his sobriety. 

His fingers twitched as they withdrew back and cupped his face. As he wiped the sweat from his brow and swung his legs over his bed. Shuffled into his boots and made haste to leave his small shack of a home. Wasn’t really a home, it was four walls filled with regret and false hope, with lost humanity and wishful thinking. 

It was a pit stop to either Heaven or Hell, whichever master wanted his soul more. More then not Steve thought it would be the ladder, even despite his efforts of turning righteous. Becoming a man of God. 

* * *

In the year of the Lord 1879, August 23. The summer heat of the Californian desert made blood boil and could evaporate the marrow from bone. The sun hasn’t even risen yet but it was the summer days like today where the Devil himself was said to run the earth; leavin' his hellfire behind him. 

The brunette man, dressed in a white button down knelt slowly; black slacks fit snug against his legs. Kneeling down in front of an altar, eyes closed tightly. A large ornate golden cross sat upon it. The altar table sat securely in the front of the humble sized church.

"Forgive me Father for I have sinned. It has been three years since my last drink Father. But every day I still crave it. I crave all of it, but mostly I crave ignorance. I don’t want to remember, I don’t want to know anymore. I'm thankful Father for the life you've given me but I'm still so lost. I still don't feel whole. Father, please tell me what to do." 

Steve beseeched, hands folded, head bowed. It was a private hearing between the mortal and-

"My child. Return to your old ways of the flesh. For freedom will come when you set yourself free." 

A voice soft, reassuring, dripping with manipulation answered back.

"Father? What are you saying? No, no." 

The holy man shook his bowed head before fleeing from his knees to grasp onto the altar he was kneeling under. 

"Father why do you test me this way? Have I not proven myself? I'm sorry. I beg for your forgiveness." 

"Would you like me to absolve you of your sins my son?" 

"Yes Father." 

"Then first you must sin again." 

"I don't understand." 

The preacher's cries for absolution were broken when heel met dust eaten floors. Footsteps echoed the hallowed hall, all the way to the rafters. But no other sounds. No birds nor wind rustle against the panes. The preacher man taken aback by the sudden noise turned to face the culprit. And staring back at him was a man, but not a simple man. A devil dressed as a gentleman. 

"Who are you? Why are you here?" 

The mortal's voice quaked with surprise and remnants of adrenaline. 

"Is this structure not for all lost souls Preacher?" 

The voice rang through the mortal man's ears; it was the same voice that had just moments ago spoken so softly to him’ in his weakest, private moment. Relief flooded the man first, knowing that his God hadn't turned his back to him. He didn't curse him back to the life he led before. But rage, sweet cardinal rage soon took the man dressed in white. 

" _ Your _ kind isn't welcomed here. Now tell me your business or leave,  _ sir _ ." 

"Oh, aggression, anger, how you entice me so holy man. I can smell it on you. Fear. No.  _ Excitement _ ."

The devil dressed in black, wore a suit, no tie. A red carnation adorned his front pocket. His hellfire skin shone gold like a holy thing under his collar. Sun burnt ringlets flooded his face. And eyes, eyes ever blue that could tempt a thirsty man in the desert to do...anything for a drink of them. Like every depiction of the morning star, the immortal that stood before the lonely preacher was beautiful. Something once holy indeed. 

"Devil. You will leave here or tell me your peace." 

The man spoke with gumption, the Devil in front of him was nothing to those of his past. To those that clung onto his shoulders that weighed him down everyday. He wasn't a strong man, but apathy was a strength the man learned to wield long ago.

"Well, It's very simple you see. I want you. I want you to help me, help you."    


The elegantly dressed usurper of a man paused before continuing, as if debating whether he should confess or not. In actuality, it was all for naught but a dramatic pause.    


"I've had my eyes on you. For quite a few years now preach and  _ goddamn _ , you've made me bite my lip more than once."    


The demon smirked at the man before traipsing across the nave, running his gracile hands over the pues. Transparent fingernails long, almost feline like; leaving scratches in the darkly stained wood. Watching the brunette standing in the chancel. 

"You were so chaotically beautiful, like storm waves, or fire. A force to be reckoned with. You had Hell fire in your golden eyes, had the Devil's luck. You're welcome by the way." 

He added with a grin.

"Even now I suppose you are still beautiful, with your new turned fawn eyes. Your brown hair dark from the lack of sun. Your skin now pale from restraint. But you're becoming a hypocrite preacher. It doesn't suit you." 

The blonde spoke condescendingly, like a teacher to a classroom filled with eager pupils.   


"God's people, they're all the same. Beggin' when they need something and ignorant when things are being handed to them. They're liars and cheats. They make excuses for their sin to make them feel better about their souls."    


The holy man watched the demon. They were yards from each other, but as the entity purged, the man couldn't shake the feeling that they were too close for comfort. Or at least their views seemed to secretly be one in the same.

The churchman knew that demons knew things, and perhaps could even read minds. But that isn't what shook him up. It was the fact that this demon didn't have to use powers to find out these details. He had been watching the mortal all along. Like a binge worthy opera.   


"Well Father..." 

The dark one raised his groomed brows in questioning, drawing in closer once again.    


"You can't argue with the facts." He took gingerly steps closer and closer towards the preacher with every word. His eyes sharply fixated onto the mortal in front of him.    


"If you sin, it's a sin no matter what. So, you might as well make it a good one. Right? Make it something you can remember when you're alone, at night, wishing for delectable company." 

His voice grew hushed; it was entrancing and hypnotic in tone but still sounded like thunder rolling.   


"Make it something that will last, something that will make your body crave and yearn long after it happens." 

The demon with his gold curls and piercing blue eyes reached the brunette man. Looked him up and down and took hold of his right hand. Stood in front of him and lifted that once calloused hand now made tender to eye level; kept it there. The Devil's gentle claw traced down the mortals palm slowly.   


"The flesh may be weak preacher, but to touch it feels far more intoxicating than anything that book there can offer you."    


A wicked grin crept onto the fallen one’s face. Perhaps even a glimpse of a forked tongue could be seen behind his keen teeth.    


"This isn't Eden any longer holy man, this isn't temptation, I am not the serpent. This isn't unknown knowledge. These are facts." 

The demon even amusingly elongated his 'S' to imitate the snake of legend. Tempted to lick the preacher's mouth if only to disgust him more. The priest found himself momentarily, uncontrollably entranced by the touch of the other.

The energy that radiated off of the entity was more powerful than anything the human had encountered before, and it shocked him. Shook him to his core. Mortal eyes traced over the Immortals features, he was at this point far too close for comfort. 

Could see the contour of his perfectly structured face. See every stubble of hair on his chin. Smell, the brunette could smell the fire on his skin, smell pomegranate and myrrh. The pastor shivered head to toe from the feather light graze against his palm; from the overwhelming enticement.

Only breaking free from his hypnosis when the beast in gentleware stopped his repetitive touch. The holy man stole his hand back and quickly retreated behind the altar, putting something between himself and the demon. 

“Oh come now preacher, no need to run from the truth.” 

The fallen one turned heel to watch the other, the brunette that was shaking even as he put space between them with his quick steps. 

“How long?” 

The mortal spoke with venom. His head hung down low as he leaned over the holy table, hands pressed heavy onto it for support. 

“How long  _ what _ ?” 

The demon snarked back in disapproval of the man's tone. 

“How long?”

He asked again, voice growing louder. 

“How long have you been watching me?” 

His pale fist that still held white scars of his past thrashed against the wooden structure knocking over the cross that sat upon it. 

“I want- _ need _ to know!”

Picking his head up, the brunette stared down the dark one. Honey gold eyes made bright with determination and the sunlight peeking over the horizon 

The fiend smirked almost taken aback by the outburst but happily so. He waited a moment, staring at the mortal who was more angry than frightened by the Devil. The blonde liked that. Knew this mortal, his mortal would be the one to look Hell in the eyes and look back at it with a  _ ‘is that all you got’ _ smirk.

“Before you became a man of God. Before that unfortunate accident that turned you on to the righteous path. Even before your  _ delicious _ chapter of angst filled sin… I've known you. Long before you knew yourself. Steven.” 

The mortal eyes grew wide before growing sharp like daggers. Pointed with deadly aim at the demon. 

"No. That's not my name anymore." 

His voice shook with rage and shock.  A sharp tongue snuck between even sharper teeth as the Devil's lips curled wickedly into a grin. 

"Yes it is, come now, you can not lie to me. I am the father of lies  _ Stevie _ . He's still in you. Crawling through your veins, trying to claw himself out with every breath. Your blood has been running stagnate without the passion and thrill that it craves for.  _ Yearns _ for." 

The preacher's breath caught in his throat, sweat dripped from his forehead. Quiet pearls, each one brought out with the internal fight between good and evil that hurricanes inside him. He licked his lips that had become all to dry as did his mouth. His chest heaved and yet he still felt breathless. 

"You're wrong. That man is long since dead. He died that night." 

"No, you see if that were true then...I wouldn't be standing here, now would I?" 

The Devil met the mortal across the table. Matched his wild eyes with steady calm ones, intense still but perhaps gentle.

“I...” 

The preacher started but dropped his head again in reluctance. 

“No, you’re wrong Devil. I can’t be that man anymore. That man gets people killed. That man will get himself killed. So I ask you again...leave. _Please_ , leave.” 

His voice just this side of being broken, strained, holding back tears.

The Devil sighed, cocked his head to the side so his eyes could look elsewhere. Ran his tongue against his teeth. This man was far from being broken, but the blonde’s goal isn’t to break him. No, his goal is to gain his trust, to make him want to come to him on his own accord. To  _ desire _ his company.

“Alright. I shall take my leave for now. I am not your enemy Steven, know that.”

“You ain't a friend either.”

The preacher bit back, eyes sharp at the blonde.

“No, I suppose I am not. Nor do I wish to be. I want you to be mine. In return I will be only yours.” His words dripped heavily in liquid gold, pure temptation.

“Never.” 

The brunette bit with a sneer.

“Well, if you change your mind... just call me William.”

“What?" Steve scoffed, "Wil-but you-”

“I know. Simple, but I hear mortals calling my name all the time. Cursing me as if I’m the one to blame for their problems. You, you will be the only one to know my true name.”

“William? No,  _ desire _ ? Desire is your true name.” 

“My  _ God _ ,” the devil mocked with a grin,  “how smart you are Stevie. Hm.”

He hummed pleased before turning his back to the mortal to take his leave. And within a blink of Steve’s eyes the Devil was gone, as if never there at all. The preacher collapsed onto the chancel floor. 

Grasping at his chest, body completely shaking and heaving for air. This couldn’t be real, perhaps he’s still in bed with fever and this is all but a dream, a nightmare. How did the Devil himself know Steve’s name. Why did he want  _ him _ , no, can’t be real. Just like how monsters can’t be real...but they are. 

Steve knows that monsters are real, has killed them plenty of times in his past. Still has the golden spear head tucked away, stained with the blood of the last monster he killed. No. This is definitely real.


End file.
